Bittersweet
by AlternateOla
Summary: "She let him take her by the hand, because nothing in this twisted world was harder than facing your demons alone". The bittersweet love story of Diana Prince and Clark Kent.


_A/N: First things first, this prequel is dedicated to Anianka35 for leaving a lovely comment and giving me inspiration. Thank you!_

 _Second things second, this can be read as a standalone or as a prequel to my other one-shot, Anamnesis._

 _Final things final (?), let it be known that I tried incredibly hard to do research for this story because I wanted it to at least somewhat make sense in the DC universe. Having said that, after reading into the Superman/Wonder Woman relationship and then attempting to research their backgrounds separately I quickly realised that, with the amount of comics, the conflicting information is just too overwhelming and confusing. There's so many different universes and alternate dimensions/futures/stories that I simply struggled to understand it enough to make this story DC canon. Essentially what I'm trying to say is that this is all made up. Literally almost all of it. I've followed the basic Justice League timeline (I think?) but aside from that, this is 100% AU._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **1920**

After Steve Trevor was so cruelly taken from her, Diana Prince didn't think she could ever feel that kind of love for another man. He'd died bravely, in an act that took more courage than most dreamed of having, but a part of her couldn't help but resent him. He'd been the first man that she had ever known, the first man to truly enthrall and intrigue her; the first man that she had bed. She didn't like to think about it much anymore, but she'd tied her future to that man in a way she thought she never could, and he threw it all away to save lives.

 _Save lives_. Diana sighed, her fingers gently skimming the newspaper photo that she treasured so dearly. Her own face smiled back at her, along with Steve's and Sameer's and all the others who fought by her side. She wondered how they were doing now; whether they'd healed from the horrors they had seen, or whether the war still haunted them like it haunted her.

She often dreamed of all the bullets she reflected off of her magical gauntlets. The sound they made, a metallic clang, as they were returned to sender. The cries of the men getting torn apart by those very same bullets they'd just fired; some surprised, some pained. Some perhaps a bit of both. She remembered it all, every detail, down to almost every man. Sometimes she wondered if she'd been the one to really kill Steve, inspired him to act the way he did. She supposed she would never know now.

Still, despite lingering doubts and regrets, her job was done. She killed Ares, stopped him from ever corrupting or influencing human minds again. She sacrificed much to save this fickle race that was not her own, and though at times it pained her she knew she would make the same choice again, given the chance.

Earth had needed her. She had responded to the call.

* * *

 **1941**

Diana Prince was beginning to remember the words of her queen mother, Hippolyta. _They don't deserve you_ , she'd said, and as the Second World War raged on Diana finally understood. Mankind didn't need Ares or any other supernatural being to be evil - they harboured and nurtured evil inside them. Ares was just an excuse, albeit a good one, one she'd believed wholeheartedly. After everything that happened that truth was hard to swallow.

She could see now that every man, every woman and perhaps even every child was a ticking time tomb. Some would never go off, disarmed by friends or family or even themselves. Others, on the other hand, would explode with a force that would rattle the world. Adolf Hitler was _definitely_ one of the latter.

He had marched through many countries, mowing down criminals and innocents alike. No longer able to ignore the rising threat, America joined the war effort in a bid to stop him. So far it had proved fruitless.

When the first skirmishes broke out, Diana wanted to fight the incredible injustice. An inferno raged inside her, an incredible desire fuelled by ardent calls to action. Diana knew that there were men looking for her, government men, British, American, Russian; all out to recruit her. Yet all _she_ wanted was to stop this evil that was taking over, the very same evil that had enveloped the world just over 20 years ago. The thought of being a part of some foreign agenda was not to her taste, and those words kept coming back to her; _they don't deserve you._ She became more and more withdrawn and before she knew it three years, awful years full of suffering, had gone by. She suffered along with the people, but her mind was made up. Why would she help a race that was so hell-bent on destroying themselves? What was the point of rescuing something that so clearly wanted to perish?

She had already lost so much, and she wasn't prepared to lose any more.

* * *

 **1968**

 _Curator for the Department of Antiquities_ , her badge read in gold cursive. Diana Prince held a feather duster in her hand, and ran it over the exhibits gently. She liked it here well enough; she got to do something she enjoyed whilst maintaining her perfectly ordinary, civilian disguise.

Her life had almost got _boring_ , one could say. She owned a quirky apartment on the outskirts of Paris, with a spacious and bright living room, and a window that gave her a view of the Seine. Her adopted stray, Hades, always sat on the windowsill and greeted her with a lazy wag of the tail. He was a cat black as night, fur long and glossy and thick, and eyes yellow. Diana wondered who'd leave such a magnificent creature to starve in a dumpster, and she immediately remembered once again of the endless possibilities of human cruelty.

Despite her ever growing loneliness and quiet contempt, she left in plenty of time every morning to travel to the Louvre, and exchanged pleasantries with her colleagues before getting to work. She conserved, cleaned and maintained pieces from centuries gone by, all the while aware that she was older than them all.

Because of her surprising expertise, she was sent around various parts of the world to secure and bid for precious artifacts. The Louvre had not yet fully recovered after the losses it took during the second war, and Diana worked tirelessly to restore it to its former glory. It gave her life a purpose, a small sense of fulfillment that she couldn't get anywhere else.

Nobody even began to suspect she was _the_ Wonder Woman. Those legends were getting old, and not many people nowadays believed in the mysterious, beautiful saviour that helped win the war for the Allies. Most who knew her personally were dead, eyewitnesses were few and far between and despite the general morbidity of it all she didn't entirely mind. The less people recognised her for who she really was, the better.

 _Wonder Woman_. What a silly name. She was no wonder to anyone but humans, and all humans were good at was destroying wonders.

 _They did not deserve her._

* * *

 **1993**

"He pushed the bus out of the water with his bare hands!" The agitated Helen Ross was telling Diana, stretching her hands out as if she was the one doing the pushing. "Then he dove back in and pulled my boy out!" Word had reached Diana about a series of rather intriguing _(supernatural_ , Helen had shouted, _occult and ungodly!)_ events, and the trail had lead her all the way to a small town in Kansas.

"I don't understand," Diana frowned, "if he saved all those children, including your son, why are you scared?" The woman's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"He isn't human." She finally pronounced, wrapping her arms around a fat, clumsy boy sitting next to her. "God only knows what he could do to us if he put his mind to it." Diana's frown deepened, and she leaned forward.

"Excuse me, but he saved your son's _life_. Surely he deserves praise?" She was trying hard to follow this woman's reasoning, to understand why she feared a 13 year old boy so much. Helen faltered briefly.

"I-," she took a deep breath, "he done a good thing, I can't deny that. But who's to say he'll always do good things? What happens to us when he doesn't?" Diana's head hurt, both from Helen's utter _stupidity_ and her strong accent.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Helen." She said curtly, standing up. The woman got to her feet right after, eyeing Diana's notebook eagerly.

"His name is Clark. Clark Kent. Are we gon' be in your newspaper, Miss Price?"

"Prince," Diana corrected, "and of course. This is an incredible story." At least it was only half a lie.

Despite Helen Ross' almost impressive ignorance, Diana left the farmhouse with a spring in her step, happier than she'd been in a long time. She would go back to Paris now, back to The Louvre and to her work, but she would keep a close eye on this _Clark Kent_.

Perhaps she wasn't as alone as she'd thought.

* * *

 **1995**

"Miss Prince." Diana didn't recognise the voice or the face which belonged to the man in front of her, but many rich people knew her by name. She was always at auctions, bidding for expensive pieces to take back to her museum. She made a name for herself in the antiquity world.

"I do not believe we have had the pleasure." She was at one such event now. Unfortunately the stunning Greco-Roman statute had fallen into someone else's hands, but she wasn't planning on losing any sleep over it. More would undoubtedly crop up, and she'd be there when they did.

"We haven't," the man replied enigmatically, "but perhaps we can help each other out." Diana allowed herself a small smile.

"I don't need help, no matter who you think you might be." She made to brush past him, no longer interested, but his hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

A split-second shock went through her body; no one had even attempted to restrain her for almost 80 years. She was about to launch the fool across the whole room for daring to touch her, but then she felt the familiar crinkling of newspaper between her fingers.

"Think on it, Miss Prince." The man murmured as he walked away, and she unfurled the paper impatiently, the unpleasantries already half forgotten.

 _1918_. Five familiar faces smiled back at her. One was her own.

* * *

 **1997**

She kept tabs on Clark Kent, so she knew exactly what happened when the tornado hit. She knew his father was dead, and she knew he didn't attempt to save him. _Smart boy,_ she thought briefly, then recoiled from her own thoughts. It might have been a smart move, but it was also a hard, painful, psyche-destroying move.

"What's on your mind?" Bruce Wayne, the billionaire philanthropist from that fateful auction, asked. She'd been working for him ( _with him_ , she liked to think) for almost two years now. At first it was more of a deal - he kept her identity a secret, and she helped him take down criminals of Gotham. After a while the young man with a passion for justice somehow wormed his way into her heart, and they became good friends and close allies.

"I was just thinking of Clark." She divulged. It had been a while since she'd told Bruce about the mysterious, preternatural boy from Smallville. Bruce immediately wanted to recruit him, but Diana held him back. _He's not ready,_ she'd said, _let him live his life._ Bruce relented eventually, though Diana knew he had not given up on his dream of creating a superhuman vigilante team.

"What about him?" Bruce questioned, biting down on a piece of toast. They were having breakfast in the ' _Batcave_ ', as Bruce liked to call it. Diana still giggled at the name to this day.

"His father just died. I think maybe I should go see him." She ate her blueberries thoughtfully, her brain whirring with possibilities.

"He doesn't even know who you are." Bruce pointed out, waving his toast at her. She swatted it away with a smile.

"Well, maybe it's time that he did." She finished the last of the fruit and stood up, mind made up. "I'm going to Smallville."

And so she did. Bruce wanted to take her in his jet, but she didn't want to scare Clark off. Instead she rented a car, and began to make the tedious journey into the mainland. It would take her almost a full day, but she knew that if she was to take this chance she had to go about it right.

20 hours and no breaks later, Diana rolled up uninvited on Clark's driveway. It was early morning, but the sun was already beating down. A short older woman came out to greet Diana before she even had a chance to turn off the engine.

"Who might you be?" Her tone wasn't unkind, but tired and dejected. _It must be Clark's mother,_ Diana realised, _and if so, she's just lost her husband barely a month ago._ Diana did her best to smile reassuringly.

"I wondered if I could maybe talk to Clark Kent." There was no point in lying, but she hard to remember to be as delicate as possible. She couldn't afford to make a mess of this meeting.

"I'm Martha Kent, his mother. Now is probably not the best time." Martha eyed Diana more suspiciously this time, taking in everything from her low heels to her crisp white blouse and tied up hair. "Who are you?"

"My name is Diana Prince. I'm afraid that there will never be a good time for the conversation I wish to have with your son." Diana said carefully, observing the determined look on Martha's face.

"You won't take him away from me, Miss Prince." She narrowed her eyes, and for the first time Diana considered that this really might've been a terrible time to visit. Clearly Martha knew that her boy was special, and she must've known for a long time now.

"I am not here to take anyone away, least of all your son. I just want to talk." She soothed with another smile. Martha steeled herself, and nodded.

"Very well," she conceded, "this way then, come along." Diana's heels _click-clacked_ on the wooden porch as Martha led her through the front door, then up the stairs and down a hallway. They stopped in front of a plain door, white as the outside of the house.

"Clark, honey, there's a lady here to see you!" Martha called with a gentle knock. Diana heard the squeaking of a bed, the slam of a book and finally the door opened to reveal Clark Kent.

"What?" He looked angry, Diana noted, but there was similar distress in his eyes as there was in his mother's.

"Can I come in?" Diana asked kindly, and the boy's features softened a little.

"Sure." Clark opened the door to let her in, then sat back down on his bed expectantly. He was tall, Diana noted, quite a lot taller than her. His hair was thick and black, and his jaw hard-set and masculine. _He's a man now_ , Diana realised, _not a boy._

Martha left them with a silent nod, and Diana took a seat on a single chair by the window. Now that she was here, she didn't even entirely know what to say. She couldn't recruit Clark, at least not in the sense that Bruce would've wanted, and she could hardly console him about his father's death.

"You're different." She finally said, folding her hands in her lap. She could immediately see the earlier anger return, his features twisting and his fists clenching. "I just want you to know that it's okay to feel isolated and upset about it."

"Look at yourself. You're rich, good-looking... you'd blend in just about anywhere, you're so perfectly _normal_." He seethed spitefully through his teeth. "The hell would you know about being different?" She remained calm, and even allowed herself a small smile.

"Quite a bit I'd imagine, considering I'm over four thousand years old."

* * *

 **1998**

"Left!" Diana shouted, throwing a punch. "Watch your feet! There, that's better." She was moving fast, at borderline inhuman speed, but Clark was matching her punch for punch. What had taken her hundreds of years to master, he seemed to be getting within months. Perhaps he wasn't quite as refined, but with a few more years of training he'd be unstoppable.

 _"Oof!"_ She yelled and stumbled backwards when an unexpected laser beam hit her square in the chest. "That's cheating, Kent!" Clark smirked arrogantly.

"Being thousands of years old, I'd have thought you'd be able to beat me up." He raised his arms again, readying himself for more sparring.

"I wish you'd actually remember the useful things I've told you," she chastised, slapping his back leg to widen his stance, "but if you insist, I will... _beat you up."_ She threw herself at Clark with all she had, throwing out punches and kicks with deadly accuracy and pushing him further and further back until he could do nothing but block her blows. She heard his breath labour and felt his moves become clumsy; he was a fast learner, but he was also fast to make mistakes. Her next hit knocked the air out of him - one more and he was down in the dirt, with Diana on top of him.

"There," she proclaimed victoriously, "is that what you wanted?" Clark was looking at her strangely, and she realised with a start that their faces were only inches apart.

"Perhaps not entirely," he murmured in reply, his voice _definitely_ an octave lower, "but I can hardly complain, now that we're here." Diana felt a warm flush spread from her cheeks down to her neck. She scrambled up with considerably less grace than she would have liked, breathing a little heavier.

"Well, that's it for this week. I have to get back to Gotham." Even her voice was higher than usual, and she cursed internally.

"I'll see you next week, Diana!" Something about the way her name rolled off his tongue made her shiver, and she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it.

"Yes..." she muttered, distracted, "next week."

That damn smirk was still on Clark's face when she climbed into the car and drove off.

* * *

 **February 2000**

"Are you sure, Clark? This is what you want?" Diana asked for the hundredth time as Bruce Wayne's jet soared above Smallville.

"Yes," Clark replied, exasperated, "you know it is." Diana smiled apologetically, but didn't ask again. If she was to be honest with herself, she was beyond thrilled that Clark was finally joining Bruce and her. She had taught him all she knew, and made a good friend whilst doing so.

 _A good friend_. Is that all she saw him as? Is that all _he_ thought of _her?_ Both those questions were difficult, and the answers even more elusive. The thought that she felt _something_ , anything more than friendship for Clark Kent, terrified her. The rational part of her brain was telling her to run, because she was a four thousand year old Amazon, and he was just a 20 year old man. _A 20 year old_ super _man,_ a little mischievous voice whispered, _and where exactly will you look for a man your age?_ She wanted to slam her head against the table in front of her and never think again.

A voice came through the intercoms telling them to buckle up for the landing. Diana put her seatbelt on absentmindedly, oblivious to Clark's piercing gaze.

* * *

 **March 2000**

"It's chilly up here." Diana remarked, settling down on the rooftop next to Clark. He was sprawled out on the shingles of Wayne Manor, drinking in the cold, winter sun.

"I don't feel it," he replied conversationally, "and I like it here. It's peaceful." Diana smiled, leaning back on her hands. It _was_ nice. The breeze was gentle enough despite the height, and the views were breathtaking.

"Do you come here often?" She asked, then cringed at the overused cliché. Clark laughed.

"Yes, actually. It's probably my favourite place in Gotham." He confessed, putting his hands behind his head. Diana couldn't help but smile. This, all of this, was just so... Clark.

"And how are you finding Gotham?" She asked, looking out over the beautiful landscape. Wayne Manor gave way to the gardens, acres and acres of rolling hills and grass green as emeralds. Leaves littered the ground, brown and red and yellow, like a surreal painting. It wasn't cold enough for frost or snow, but when it was the soft white blanket looked comfy enough to sleep on.

"It's an interesting city." Clark interrupted her musings. "I can see why Bruce wants to protect it so much. And it doesn't hurt that you're here." And there it was, the very thing that scared Diana Prince. Lately their conversations always seemed to steer in dangerous directions.

"It has character," she attempted to ignore what he'd said, ignore the butterflies in her stomach, "I've grown rather fond of it myself." Clark turned to face her, and she could feel his eyes on the side of her head.

"I've grown rather fond of _you_." He told her boldly, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Clark..." she couldn't, wouldn't look at him because that would be her undoing.

"I know you feel something for me too, maybe it's not the same but there's _something_ -"

" _Stop_." Her mind was screaming at her to run but her heart, oh her heart was telling her to jump into Clark's arms and fly off into the sunset. And, in what was not Diana Prince's finest moment, she leaped off the roof and _ran_.

* * *

 **May 2000**

"Diana?" She heard the familiar voice, but she knew he couldn't see her. She dashed into the closest corridor and sped up her pace. Damn Clark and his uncanny ability to find her anywhere, at any time.

"Diana!" The voice was closer, and she knew there was no chance of getting away. If he couldn't see her, he could most definitely hear her. Despite her hopeless situation, she made a sharp turn left to where she knew the library was, and prayed that Clark would just give up.

"You can stop running from me now." Diana sighed, turning around to face her pursuer. There was no use in pretending, but was there any use in the first place? _Not with Clark,_ she thought, annoyed.

"I'm not running. I had important business to do here." She protested. Clark ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Don't play dumb, Diana. You've been avoiding me ever since the rooftop." He accused.

"No I haven't," she replied weakly, "I've just been busy."

"Not too busy to run away for days and hide in Paris," Clark pointed out, "and not too busy to go out with Bruce." Diana crossed her arms defensively. How did he even know about Paris?

"Bruce is my friend." She said after a few seconds of silence, choosing to ignore the former part of his statement. Clark frowned.

"What am I then?" He was getting angry, she could tell. She could always tell what mood he was in, from the small creases between his brows to the quirks of his lips.

"I-" she cut herself off, and Clark raised an eyebrow. "You're my friend too." She finished lamely, and watched motionless as Clark closed the distance between them in two short strides.

"I don't want to be your friend, Diana Prince." He tucked a stray flyaway behind her ear and leaned down to kiss her.

* * *

 **2001**

"That was..."

"Incredible." Clark finished for her, the familiar confident smirk lingering on his lips. He wasn't wrong, but Diana still smacked his arm playfully. Making love to Clark was, quite literally, out of this world. His stamina and endurance aside, he wasn't _fragile_ like humans were. He wouldn't break if she did so much as touch him, she wasn't scared she'd hurt him like she'd been with Steve.

Steve... she'd barely given him a thought the past few years. Ever since Clark stepped into her life she felt different; as though the piece of her that Steve took with him into the grave was slowly getting replaced. At first it was a happy feeling of _finally_ not being the only different one. Then it started to grow into something else, something warm and fuzzy and wonderful. Here, in his arms, she felt like she belonged.

"I love you." She heard her own voice say, and immediately bit her lip in anticipation. "Too soon?" Maybe it was, maybe he didn't feel any of what she felt at all. Just as anxiety threatened to eat her alive, she felt Clark chuckle.

"Four years too late." He murmured, kissing the top of her head. She didn't remember ever feeling this happy.

* * *

 **2005**

Clark was waiting for her by a slick car with a single red rose.

"I suppose I have Bruce to thank for the transport?" She asked playfully, and Clark grinned.

"You have me to thank for everything else." He offered Diana the rose, smooth and with no thorns. She snapped the stem in half and tucked the flower behind her ear.

"Well thank you, Mister Kent. You are most generous." She said cheekily, and Clark opened the car door for her.

"After you, ma'am." He gestured with his hand, and Diana settled in the plush leather interior.

"Where are we going?" She asked curiously, biting on her lip. Clark kissed her forehead tenderly.

"To celebrate our anniversary. I love you, Diana Prince." She smiled softly and snuggled into his side, feeling incredibly appreciated and strangely _human_.

They made love that night, sweetly and tenderly, and as Diana lay in Clark's arms she thought that nothing and no one could ever be more perfect.

* * *

 **2008**

"I'm close, Diana. I've never been this close." Clark was excited, leaning against a chimney top. Diana found that almost all their important conversations happened on the roof of Wayne Manor.

"Where's your next lead?" She asked, though she was significantly more discouraged, and she knew Clark could tell. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

"You know how important this is to me." His voice was barely above a whisper but it was firm and determined.

"Of course I do," Diana replied, just as quietly, "but just how important am I to you?" That set him off almost immediately, and if he were a violent man she'd be halfway across Gotham right now. Fortunately for her and their relationship, Clark wasn't at all confrontational - until Diana questioned his intentions.

"I don't understand how you can even ask me that." He ground out, fists clenched. She frowned at him.

"You've been jetting off all around the world for the past two years. You're here one day, you completely disappear the next without so much as a word. I-," she paused, fighting back prickling tears, "I always thought of us as equals, both as friends and as lovers. It seems like you're taking me for granted." Clark at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"I'm doing what I have to." He said uncertainly, and Diana's gaze hardened.

"No. You're doing what you want."

* * *

 **2010**

"I'm not some porcelain doll, Clark! I'm just as capable as you!" They were fighting more and more recently, over smaller and smaller things.

"You can get hit and killed by a bullet, just like any human." Clark retorted, and she scoffed.

"We've been fighting together for almost a decade and now you start to care for my well-being?" She almost couldn't believe they were having this argument.

"I always care for your well-being, and I always have. You know that, Diana." His tone was much softer now, less aggressive. Diana sighed heavily.

"What's happening, Clark? You've been so... _different_ recently." She laced her fingers through his, rubbing her thumb soothingly across his palm.

"I _need_ to know, Diana. I feel lost." He leaned his forehead on hers. She knew what he was talking about, even though it pained her. It pained her to think that Clark, _her_ Clark, felt lost and incomplete at her side. He had an overwhelming need to discover his true identity, his heritage.

His real name.

"We've been looking too, me and Bruce. We're trying." Diana opened her eyes to find him staring at her intently.

"I know. But it's not enough - I have to search myself." Clark seemed so serious, and she swallowed the sudden dread that overcame her.

"What do you mean? You have been searching yourself, you've been searching for years." Her voice sounded small, and she felt tears sting at her eyes. She knew _exactly_ what he meant. This has been looming over them, over their relationship, for a while now.

"I'm leaving."

Diana knew that this time it was for good.

* * *

 **November 2013**

Diana and Bruce attempted to follow Clark for as long as possible before he went off the radar. For over two years now there was radio silence, but Diana was _still_ learning to live without him. She felt empty and cold without him holding her at night, and nightmares about the war began to plague her once more. She'd lost count of the times she'd woken up, drenched in sweat with fresh tears on her face.

Ten years. Ten years spent with the man, and he wandered off like it all meant nothing. Maybe this was her destiny; to forever be alone, yearning for love and never getting quite what she needed. It was something she should know well as an Amazon - she spent almost 4000 years without male company after all. It was, however, much harder to give an addiction up than to never taste it at all.

"Focus, Diana." She heard Bruce's sharp voice. Clark leaving so suddenly had taken a toll on him too; they were close as friends can get.

"Sorry," she shook her head, "I'm with you." But she wasn't, not 100%. She didn't think she could be ever again.

* * *

 **December 2013**

"It's him. It must be him." Diana breathed out, listening to the terrifying transmission of General Zod. As the rest of the Earth despaired, she felt elated. It was the first real lead she'd had in _years_.

"Son of a bitch." Bruce muttered, trying to get his screens back online. Zod kept talking and talking, demanding that Clark turn himself in, but Diana wasn't about to listen to any more. She fastened her gauntlets, heading towards the exit.

"Where exactly are you going?" Bruce called out after her.

"Nowhere. Clark is coming here." She left the Batcave, scaling the walls of the mansion above until she was on the roof. Just as she predicted, Clark was already there, standing tall with a red cape billowing behind him. He looked more mature somehow, taller, more responsible. An 'S', soft and winding, stood out on his chest like an insignia. There was a glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before, though whether it was madness or wisdom she couldn't tell.

"You're not going to turn yourself in, are you?" She found herself asking.

"You know I have to." He replied. His voice was deeper too, more grown up. More rugged.

"We can fight them off together." Diana knew her pleas were naïve and hopeless. As soon as she saw him, so tall and proud in the armour of his own world, she knew he was no longer hers.

"I don't just have myself to think of." He said, and at first Diana thought he meant other people - the ever helpless human race, always needing rescuing. Then something else flashed in his eyes and suddenly Diana understood.

"Oh." She uttered quietly. To her surprise, she didn't feel as hurt as she thought she would. Perhaps she'd subconsciously known all along that if Clark returned, he would not return to her. They were not meant to be, and maybe they never were; for what was 10 years in their lives? Merely a drop in the ocean, a small mistake. She would stand tall as she always had, even in the shadow of another woman.

"Best of luck to you, Clark. You know we're here if you need us. We will always fight with you." She sounded a little stiff, but she meant the words she spoke. She may not be his, or he hers, but they were still a team.

Clark smiled at her, and she felt a weird kind of relief.

"It's Kal. Kal-El."

* * *

 _A/N: There is goes, folks! The somewhat lengthy prequel to my little Wonder Woman/Superman one-shot. I had fun writing it, and I hope you had fun reading it! I'm always open to more ideas should you wish to provide them :)_

 _Love,_

 _AlternateOla_


End file.
